


Changes on our hands and on our faces, oh, oh

by Marishna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood, Blue Eyes, Dry Humping, First Kiss, Lightning - Freeform, M/M, Major Character Death (temporary), Orgasm, Scenting, Secrets, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Temporary Character Death, Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-03-14 08:06:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3403118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marishna/pseuds/Marishna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started small, pretty much by accident.  </p><p>Stiles trained with Deaton on weekends mostly, the occasional after school session when he didn’t have to be an actual veterinarian. Deaton stressed focus over all.  Focus on what he wanted to create. Focus on the spark inside him.  Focus on everything Stiles was used to letting in and ruining his concentration.</p><p>It was hard, yo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the squares "magic" and "laughter" for a challenge at beacon_hills on LJ.
> 
> [ETA March 31] Added second chapter that came almost out of nowhere. Tags have been added to reflect the changes.

It started small, pretty much by accident. 

Stiles trained with Deaton on weekends mostly, the occasional after school session when he didn’t have to be an actual veterinarian. Deaton stressed focus over all. Focus on what he wanted to create. Focus on the spark inside him. Focus on everything Stiles was used to letting in and ruining his concentration.

It was hard, yo.

But he got the hang of it eventually. Managed to create the tiniest ball of blue light for a split second before his excitement got the best of him and he lost it, like a trapeze artist missing their partner’s hands and falling into nothingness.

Deaton merely nodded and said, “Try again but this time _focus_.”

Yeah.

He kept it on the down low for a while. The pack knew he was training with Deaton but not what they were up to and for the most part they didn’t pry. Scott was curious and Kira raised an eyebrow now and then when he came back from a successful session, as if she could smell the magic on him. 

He noticed Derek sniffing around him more often, too, which was weird when Stiles realized he hadn’t been bothered by the way Derek would sniff him _before_. But Derek didn’t say anything and Stiles didn’t bring it up so he figured that was that.

Stiles moved past the ball of light eventually, with Deaton’s supervision, and he was advancing with his skills. Handling the mountain ash was tricky and something he could only do at the vet office as Scott and the other ‘wolves were in and out of Stiles’ place on a fairly regular basis. Anything with fire Stiles was more than happy to leave behind at Deaton’s, too. 

But the ball of light was something he could work on by himself. The focus was still a struggle once he got the thing going and it was frustrating how easily he could get distracted by the stupidest things. 

Late at night he’d stay up in the dark, cross-legged on his bed and work on that tiny blue light. Worked it from the size of a marble to a… well, a bigger marble. A shooter, if Stiles had to guess. 

The light he made was quite pretty, Stiles pondered as he sat on his bed. The window was open, curtains fluttering a little from the breeze that felt nice over Stiles’ face. 

It was a soft but vibrant blue. It reminded him of the way the colour of the ‘wolves eyes would almost shimmer when they shifted, flaring from the rush or something. The adrenaline or instinct, Stiles had no idea, obviously. 

The colour reminded him of… something. He waggled his fingers just a little and watched the ball bounce softly, like buoys in water. He stared hard into the light, locked on it to the point where he felt like his eyes glazed over. It was almost hypnotic at times, when he got lost in it. 

The realization came over him like a warm blanket and the light in his hands flickered as a result. It flared like oxygen on a dying flame, flaring back to life.

 _Derek_.

The light was the exact colour of Derek’s blue eyes. 

Stiles let his mind hold the image of Derek’s eyes and the little marble-sized light flared to a softball size. Stiles bit his lip in excitement and the image slipped from his concentration, so the light blinked out. 

“Arg!” Stiles cried out and refocused, bringing up the memory of Derek staring at him across the table at Deaton’s with his blue eyes staring at him as he asked—demanded, really—for Stiles to saw his arm off. 

Stiles relived the fear and disgust and horror from that moment but kept Derek’s eyes on him in his mind’s eyes, saw the determination and probably the closest thing to trust Derek had at that time. 

“Wow.”

A hushed whisper cut through Stiles’ concentration and the light seemed to slip through his fingers.

Stiles’ looked up to see Derek hovering outside the open window, staring in at him with an expression of awe.

“That’s what you’ve been doing at Deaton’s?” Derek asked quietly.

Stiles ducked his head in a short nod. “Part of it. The part I can do on my own, anyway.”

“I’m sorry!” Derek blurted out unexpectedly.

“For what?”

“Interrupting. I was passing by and I sme— anyway. Sorry,” Derek said hastily. He looked … bashful? That couldn’t be it. It was an expression Stiles didn’t associate with Derek Hale on a regular basis, at any rate.

“I should go,” Derek continued and turned to leap off the roof but Stiles lunged forward, almost toppling off the bed until he managed to get a leg under himself while he reached for the window sill.

“Stay!” Stiles said, without thinking. “Want to see it?”

“Yes,” Derek said immediately. Stiles stepped back and let Derek in. He settled on the bed again but toward the headboard so Derek could sit as well. Derek kicked off his shoes and mirrored his position, crossing his legs to face Stiles.

Stiles felt nervous then, because no one aside from Deaton had ever seen this and Deaton only saw the pitiful attempts. Stiles felt like he was sharing something he’d been keeping hidden and felt exposed.

He took a deep breath and stared at his hands in front of him, cupped like he was drinking water. He felt the spark inside himself flaring weakly until he steeled himself and _reached_ for it. It burst to life in his hands, a little wild at first and then formed into the small size he was used to.

Stiles felt, rather than heard, Derek’s sharp inhalation at the sight. Stiles couldn’t help it and looked up at Derek.

Derek’s eyes reflected the blue in Stiles’ hands, glowing back brightly in the dark of Stiles’ bedroom. The ball of light flared up, bigger than a softball now. Stiles’ mouth dropped open as he watched it grow. 

It wasn’t heavy or unwieldily but Stiles wasn’t sure how to handle it and his hands wavered a little. Derek’s hands came up immediately to support him and Stiles felt something _jar_ inside of him, like wrenching a stuck window up and he could _feel everything_. 

His spark was in his hands—in their hands—flowing between them, steady and even. It lit his whole room with an unearthly glow.

Stiles glanced back up at Derek and felt a smile creep across his lips as he took in Derek’s face. Open and smiling and amazed.  
 Derek caught Stiles watching him and grinned, then started laughing and it seemed to surprise even himself. It was a light, carefree sound that the light crackled along with, like it was clapping in response. 

Stiles started laughing too, from deep in his belly and flooded with relief. He laughed until he was leaning over, towards Derek, and his hands were fully supported by Derek’s. 

Derek was the one who leaned in and closed the gap, pressing his lips to Stiles’ soft and warm. His hands closed over Stiles’ slowly until Stiles could feel the light draw back into his body. He wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck and opened his mouth, letting Derek in. Derek grinned against Stiles’ lips, then deepened the kiss while his hands cupped Stiles’ face, holding him close. 

Stiles felt every swipe of Derek’s tongue against his tongue and teeth acutely, like a shock through his whole body. He signed against Derek’s skin when Derek started pressing kisses to the corner of Stiles’ mouth, his cheek, his nose, his eyelids—

“Stiles,” Derek murmured and Stiles opened his eyes lazily. Derek’s eyes widened enough for Stiles to realize what he saw. 

“I guess I found something to focus on,” Stiles replied with a grin, knowing his eyes were shining blue back at Derek, as his spark hummed contentedly in return.


	2. Feel your energy rushing through me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In retrospect it wasn't one of Stiles' smarter ideas. 
> 
> He should have known Derek would figure out what he meant when Stiles said he was waiting for "a big one" (no ‘that's what she said' joke intended). Even when Stiles was mumbling to himself and didn't think Derek was paying the slightest bit of attention to him he knew. 
> 
> It was a good thing he did realize what Stiles was up to because it likely saved his life. 
> 
> Well, not likely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure there'd be a second part to this but one of the prompts at 1_million_words on LJ for the 30th was "Thunderstorm" and I just started writing. And didn't stop for a while. I listened to BØRNS "Electric Love" for the whole thing, a bit too on the nose maybe, but it TOTALLY set the mood. :D

In retrospect it wasn't one of Stiles' smarter ideas. 

He should have known Derek would figure out what he meant when Stiles said he was waiting for "a big one" (no ‘that's what she said' joke intended). Even when Stiles was mumbling to himself and didn't think Derek was paying the slightest bit of attention to him he knew. 

It was a good thing he did realize what Stiles was up to because it likely saved his life. 

Well, not likely.

See, Deaton was all about control now that Stiles was able to focus on his spark. Once Stiles discovered that even just _thinking_ about Derek strengthened his abilities and made him able to handle the physical manifestation of his power he found out he could do all kinds of nifty things. 

He'd yet to find out why Derek was the key and what that meant and neither of them had stepped a toe over that line to discuss it but it was there. 

The big, old elephant in the room.

Deaton was pleased when Stiles showed off to him, a couple weeks after Derek tumbled into his room that night, and hadn't questioned how Stiles managed to develop his concentration so quickly but the glint in his eye let Stiles know Deaton had a pretty good idea. 

_Sure as hell hope I develop psychic abilities, too,_ Stiles thought, somewhat indignantly.

Anyway.

So Deaton was all about control now. Making sure Stiles could manipulate his power how he wanted and not just as a ball of light. As helpful as it was to have a way to see in the woods at night when the batteries died in his flashlight it was kind of useless otherwise. 

"Intent is the most important tool in any mage's arsenal," Deaton told him during a training session. "Your power is the tool but how you wield it is what makes you powerful—in the best and worst of times. Control is how you distinguish in a moment's notice whether you're using it to help or harm."

"So you're saying using it to help us win on the lacrosse field is bad?" Stiles asked, tapping his chin with a finger. 

Deaton just gave him that _look_.

Deaton gave him books to read up on about the balance of energies and power, influencing nature, the drain on his own resources as he drew and used from outside of himself—there was a lot. He kind of skimmed some of the more interesting stuff and played it by ear. Once Stiles had a handle on it he could feel the give and take with the power and he didn't know how he couldn't notice it before. 

He could play with electronics, kind of, and pow-wowed with Kira on how it felt for her and how she channelled her power. It wasn't his forte, though, and he had more difficulty with that than, say, pushing some energy into a failing African Violet and bringing it back to health.

It was a random afternoon when a storm was rolling in, one with the possibility of thunder and lightning, that he really started to understand his scope of ability. He'd been getting shocked every three seconds, it seemed, throughout the afternoon.

He shocked Scott, Lydia, his locker, the jeep— hell, even jingling his keys as he walked through the parking lot sent tingles up his arm. It felt like every cell in his body was buzzing as the storm approached. 

He drove directly home and tried to ignore how his whole body was vibrating. His hands itched to literally _spark_ with light and he just wanted to see what he could do today with it, see how far he could push himself.

He couldn't stand in the backyard like he wanted for fear of old Mrs. Johnson next door catching sight of him, so he opened his windows up as wide as they could and stood in front of them, ignoring the sideways rain that soaked him from midsection to his knees.

He could smell the sulphur like he was coated in it as his whole body adsorbed the excess energy from the storm. Every hair on his body stood up straight for hours after.

He wasn't sure what to do, how to test what he could possibly do. He ran to the garage and pulled out an old cracked flower pot with a bit of soil in it and found an impossibly old packet of morning-glory seeds.

He planted some of the seeds hastily, shoving them in the pot and spilling soil all over the carpet as he ran back to his room. He stood in front of the window again and hovered a hand over the pot, not really sure what he was doing.

Stiles cracked an eye and saw nothing happening. His mind went to Derek's face, imagined his eyes flashing blue at him through an impossible darkness, gathered himself and _pushed_.

Later that night when his dad got home and Stiles cleaned the dirt up, scrubbing some of the stains out on his hands and knees, his dad's eyes lit on the overflowing pot of flowers on the back deck.

"Nice flowers," he said lightly while Stiles grilled some chicken on the barbecue.

"Aren't they?" Stiles replied innocently and left it at that.

If a few more overly lush pots of flowers appeared in the following weeks neither of them mentioned it.

Stiles wanted to do more, though. Wanted to know just how far he could go, what he could do, how much he could _take_.

Derek showed up in his room on a random Thursday while Stiles was listening to music and doing some research for a history paper. He quickly, and happily abandoned it to sprawl in his bed with Derek half on top of him, kissing a path down Stiles' cheek and neck to where his moles disappeared under his shirt collar.

In the distance thunder rolled and Stiles' whole body jumped. 

"You okay?" Derek asked immediately. Stiles' arms clutched at Derek's shoulders and he nodded frantically.

"Don't stop." Stiles could feel the electricity coming even before the first flash of lightning was visible in the distance. 

He tugged at Derek's chin to pull him back up and kissed him deeply, then frantically. He maneuvered his body so he was fully cradling Derek between his legs, letting them fall apart so they were pressed together in a way they never had before. 

Derek cupped Stiles' cheek and pulled back from the kiss slowly so he could look Stiles in the eyes. He didn't have to say anything but Stiles knew he was asking if this was okay, if Stiles meant it.

Stiles responded by arching up so he could rip his shirt over his head and then reached down to pull Derek's off, too. The shirts disappeared somewhere into the dark corner of Stiles' room with a flick of his hand. They'd never done this, choosing to take things at a pace that Stiles didn't know until that very moment was glacially slow.

The feeling of his chest rubbing on Derek's as their mouths clashed again, harder and more frantic was immediately overwhelming for Stiles. His skin was tingling everywhere he touched Derek, like the feeling from sitting in a massage chair until it reaches the back of your neck and your whole body lets go.

"Is that you?" Derek gasped against Stiles' lips, hands running up and down Stiles' sides. Stiles could feel the charge between them so deeply now that he expected that if he looked down he'd see a flow of electricity between them, like running a hand over a plasma globe.

Stiles loosened his grip on Derek's neck and rolled his head a little so he could see Derek's eyes. "Does it bother you?"

"Your eyes are blue," Derek whispered, staring down at him in awe. "Like before."

"I take that as a no?" Stiles asked, grinning.

Derek answered him with a growl and kissed him harshly. His hips jerked against Stiles' and Derek let out a strangled, "Sorry, sorry!"

Stiles responded by wrapping his arms around Derek's back and thrusting up against him. Derek cursed against Stiles' mouth and tore away to bury his face in Stiles' neck, licking and sucking there while their hips somehow found a smoother rhythm between awkward humping and stuttered jerks.

The storm moved in quickly, seemed to settle right over the house and Stiles could feel the bolts of lightning where they hit their targets outside as he saw them flash even behind closed eyes. All Stiles could hear was their harsh panting contrasting against the loud claps of thunder that seemed to rock the house every time there was a _**boom boom boomboomboomBOOM**_.

Stiles slipped his hand down the back of Derek's jeans and grabbed at the soft flesh there, digging his nails in and Derek reared back, his own eyes now a brilliant blue. He thrust against Stiles and his mouth found the tight cord of Stiles' neck, sinking human teeth in, enough to leave what would be a vivid bruise at the least.

Stiles cried out as he came and it felt like energy was shooting out of him, out of every part of him and it encircled them as it lit the room. Derek snarled as he came right after, holding tight to Stiles and snapping his hips hard and quick, until he slowed enough to collapse with a grunt, fully on top of Stiles.

Some time later, when Stiles finally became aware of the still silence in his room he came back to himself and realized Derek had rolled them over so he was sprawled on top and Derek was nosing and licking at the mark on Stiles' neck.

"What the fuck was that?" Stiles asked lazily. He didn't care how gross it might be to come in his pants, at that moment it was awesome.

"I have no idea," Derek replied, sounding just as spent.

"It was awesome," Stiles declared.

"Definitely."

So the elephant remained, now even bigger and taking up far too much room for Stiles' liking.

Stiles tried to do research to find anything about ability to control electricity or lightning or anything even about sparks but what he found was scant, aside from what Deaton taught him. He gave Deaton a very abridged rundown of what happened the night of the storm and he hmm'd and mmm'd in the appropriate places but offered no explanation or course of action.

Stiles started to think of things he could try on his own. Like during the next storm he took Derek with him to the woods and made sure he stayed far enough away he couldn't be tempted to end up with a dirty bare ass from rolling around in the grass and leaves so he could experiment.

He found that in Derek's presence he could use the electricity storms brought to make tiny lightning strikes from his hands. He could play with them, tossing the energy back and forth. He tried sending some lightning balls like in anime but they didn't get very far before they fizzled out.

But it was something.

Stiles became obsessed with the damn storms and practically became a meteorologist ask he tracked weather patterns and storm cycles. He spread his books across Derek's floor while looking up data on his laptop and muttered to himself while Derek sat on the couch reading a book and occasionally running a hand lazily through Stiles's hair when he sat back against Derek's legs.

So that's what led to Stiles being out in the preserve, in the middle of a wide open overlook as one of the biggest storms built on the edge of Beacon Hills. He wanted to know what it would feel like to have the power of that in his fingers, to know if it would be as amazing as he expected and if this would be it, if he'd finally know what he was meant to do.

Flash forward fifteen minutes, a few frantic voicemails from Derek and Scott and a bolt of lightning Stiles wasn't expecting quite like it happened and the next thing he knew he was blinking up at Derek who looked _terrified_.

" _What the hell is wrong with you, Stiles!"_ Derek was yelling, over and over while he pushed on Stiles' chest until Stiles realized he wasn't breathing and took a loud, gasping, aching breath.

" _You fucking **asshole**_ ," Derek yelled as he gathered Stiles up in his arms and held him so tight Stiles was having trouble breathing again. Stiles slapped weakly at Derek's arm until he let him go a little but still held him close.

"What were you _doing_?" Derek demanded, still yelling. Stiles realized he was yelling because they were in the middle of the storm, with cold, heavy drops of rain pelting down on them and thunder echoing off the rocks and valleys of the preserve.

"I had to see if I could do it," Stiles replied loudly.

"Do what? Get your self killed?"

"No, just- just—what this is!" Stiles said, holding up his hands. "I don't understand what _this_ is!"

"You can figure it out without getting yourself struck by lightning!"

"Too late," Stiles replied wryly. He could feel something like lighting in his brain, going off when he moved, like it was zapping him internally. It was weird more than anything. 

"Let's get you out of here! Scott's looking for you with everyone else on the other sides of the territory," Derek said, dragging Stiles up. He kept his arms around Stiles, worried he was going to fall but Stiles felt oddly solid. His arms and legs shook a little but he was able to stand on his own. 

"How did you know where to find me?" Stiles asked, rubbing his arms as if that would keep him warm, while they started to walk away.

Derek didn't look at him as he shrugged his jacket off and put it around Stiles, even though it wouldn't do anything since he was already soaked to the bone. "I just knew."

Stiles stopped walking. "How?" he insisted.

Derek was practically scowling. "I could feel you."

"Really?"

"Like a goddamn surge in my brain," Derek grumbled, but he didn't seem angry. He still didn't meet Stiles' eyes.

"Yeah?" Stiles' voice was quiet, breathy but he knew Derek would hear. "Since when?"

"Since that first night," Derek admitted. He finally looked at Stiles, eyes intense and boring right into Stiles' core. "With that tiny ball of light."

"Oh." Was all Stiles could say.

Stiles fisted his hand into Derek's shirt and pulled him close, never breaking eye contact. He didn't know what this meant, didn't know why or how or that the universe could be quite this generous in its offerings. 

All he knew that rain and lightning and thunder aside he had to kiss Derek then and there or he might very well have died. 

He pulled Derek in and shivered when their lips met, barely touching but the tingle started there, radiated through Stiles' body and he knew through Derek, too. He let go of Derek's shirt and laced their fingers together, letting the energy run between them, warming them both. 

Stiles could feel the storm around him, how the bolt was forming overhead and that it really wasn't true that lightning didn't strike twice. But this time, before it hit him Stiles let one of Derek's hands go so he could raise it overhead and he caught the lightning in his palm, forced it around them like it was pouring over an umbrella.

It was the weirdest fucking sensation and the best one because Derek never stopped kissing him until the lightning finished crackling.

Stiles felt the energy in his hand and thought of it as a solid, workable form. He let it pool into his hand, formed into a ball, brought it to eye level. The center was white but the ball itself looked like it was bound by a blue band. 

Blue like Stiles' spark and Derek's eyes.


	3. It's right in front of me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek leaned his forehead against Stiles'. "If something comes we'll deal with it. I promise."
> 
> "I know," Stiles whispered. He pulled Derek against him, holding him tight while staring at the light hovering at their shoulders. "That's what I'm worried about."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the challenge 126 - Calm before the storm hosted by fullmoon_ficlet on LJ.
> 
> Tags updated to reflect this chapter.

Stiles didn't need werewolf senses to know exactly when Derek woke up, as he stared out the large windows overlooking the city. His ball of light hovering steadily beside him, casting an unearthly glow across the loft, started shimmering and jumping in reaction to Derek's presence.

Despite himself Stiles smiled when Derek padded up behind him and wrapped his arms around Stiles' waist, burying his face in Stiles' neck and inhaling deeply.

"Why're you up?" he mumbled against Stiles' skin.

"Couldn't sleep," Stiles replied quietly, covering Derek's arms with his own.

"Nightmares?" Stiles shook his head. "This is the third night this week. What's up?"

Stiles screwed up his face, trying to put into words what he was feeling.

"Does it feel too quiet to you? Like... something's coming?"

"Are your Spidey senses tingling?" Derek asked, teasing but Stiles tensed enough for him to notice and he pulled Stiles around to look at him. "Hey, we're okay."

"For now," Stiles said lowly.

Derek leaned his forehead against Stiles'. "If something comes we'll deal with it. I promise."

"I know," Stiles whispered. He pulled Derek against him, holding him tight while staring at the light hovering at their shoulders. "That's what I'm worried about."

***

Two days later Lydia came to the door at the loft.

Stiles pulled it open for her, smile on his face.

She stared blankly at him and then began to scream.

Stiles went white.

***

"I knew it was too good to be true," Stiles grumbled while the pack met with Deaton to discuss Lydia's warning and what was coming. They were all sitting around the exam room while he was on the phone getting some information from his sources.

"What do you mean?" Scott asked.

"Things have been too easy lately. It's the calm before the storm," Stiles replied grimly. 

"Just because Lydia screams doesn't mean instant death though, right?" Malia asked, confused.

"It doesn't mean anything good," Lydia replied, looking as exhausted as Stiles felt. None of them got much sleep the night before once Stiles started alerting everyone and he refused to sleep when Derek insisted. 

He felt like screaming himself, and his spark was erratic within him. It felt like it was bursting to get out, like a lit fuse burning too quickly for him to catch before the dynamite exploded.

"I believe it's a vampire," Deaton announced, waking into the room.

"What? Really?" Malia said as Liam exclaimed, "Cool!" Everyone else glared at him for a second and he shrugged.

"Wait," Scott interjected. "I thought vampires were the one thing that didn't exist?"

"As much as it pains me to say it it would appear I gave you the wrong information, Scott," Deaton replied, looking appropriately regretful. "And because I didn't have any reason to believe they were real I don't have anything helpful for you, unfortunately. Vampires _are_ exceedingly rare and no one I have contact with has anything resolute to help."

Stiles felt his body shudder as dread raced through him and he reached out to grab Derek's hand. Derek interlaced their fingers easily and squeezed Stiles' back.

"We'll beat it. We always do, right guys?" Liam piped up, full off naive optimism and faith in the pack as a whole.

Stiles looked around the room and felt like his heart was breaking.

They would fail.

***

"Why don't you go home and be with your dad tonight, Stiles?" Derek tried later that night in the loft. 

Stiles shook his head and kept watch out the windows. "He's on nights this week and Parrish has instructions to keep him in the station as much as possible."

"Does he know?"

"As much as he needs to right now. He'd just worry."

"Stiles, _I'm_ worried," Derek admitted and Stiles looked up, surprised. "About you."

"Me?" Stiles asked, confused. 

"You've been weird about this for awhile."

"Obviously, Derek," Stiles snapped, nerves frayed. Derek blinked and raised an eyebrow.

"You don't need to take this out on me, you know."

"You're not taking this seriously!" Stiles yelled, standing up and getting in Derek's face. He wanted Derek to get mad, to get belligerent with him and feel the same chaos of emotions Stiles was feeling inside his head. 

Derek reached out slowly and clutched Stiles by the shoulders and held him still, looked him deep in the eyes and flashed his own blue at him. Stiles felt his spark respond without telling it to and he knew his eyes were reflecting back at Derek.

"What's going on?" Derek asked as the blue faded.

Stiles hesitated and tried to find the words to explain. "I don't know what's it's like for her. For Lydia. _She_ doesn't really know what it's like, you know? The magic I have in me has been something I could control for so long but now it's screaming at me that this is bad. All of this is bad and it's sitting in my fingertips. It feels like there's an itch deep in my muscle, you know that kind? The one you can't scratch?" Derek nodded. "That's how I've been feeling all week because there's something _wrong_ here and I don't know what it is."

He paused, took a deep breath and covered Derek's hands on his arms. "And I know it's going to be bad."

Derek pulled him in close and held him so tightly Stiles wanted to push back but he squeezed his own arms around Derek and tried to hold him just as hard and bone-crushingly tight. 

"I promise it'll all be okay," Derek rumbled in his ear.

"Don't promise that," Stiles whispered back. "Because I know it isn't true."

***

Parrish called Stiles in the middle of a sunny Wednesday afternoon while he was pushing a cart through the grocery store, unable to sit still. He felt like there was a lightning storm in his brain and his head was pounding since he woke up. Derek tried to take his pain but it was relentless.

As soon as he saw Parrish's name on the call display he knew it was bad.

"We got some reports of a domestic, couple deputies went to check it out. Stiles, it was at the McCall house."

Stiles felt his fingers go numb and everything else faded out around him except for Parrish's voice.

"Melissa's at work, I know that much. But when the deputies got to the house there was a lot of blood. One of them—one of the. Deputy Hicks is dead. Deputy Shaw is on his way to the hospital babbling about a monster he could barely see and that ripped Hick's throat out with its teeth."

"The vampire," Stiles whispered. His mouth was dry and he swallowed hard.

"The pack is already on their way."

Stiles was running, abandoning his cart in the middle of the aisle with all the frozen and refrigerated stuff in it. " _Where_?" he yelled as he left the store.

"As far as I know to the preserve. Another deputy who showed up said he saw a blood trail leading to the woods behind Scott's house so it seems likely."

"Keep my dad there!" Stiles said as he got into the Jeep. 

"Want me to come ou—"

"No!" Stiles all but screamed. "You stay where you are and keep my father safe!"

"Stiles—"

But Stiles hung up, started the Jeep and was speeding through town to the preserve.

***

Stiles knew it was bad when he could smell the blood. He knew blood had a smell, obviously; he'd been around it enough in the past few years and got surprisingly comfortable with the spilling of it. But he usually couldn't smell it this well without seeing it.

He crashed through the trees and brush, feeling the branches whip him in the face and brambles caught on his clothes. He was cut and scratched by the time he reached the clearing, the same one he was almost killed from lightning.

Of course it would be there.

And of course it wasn't just one vampire.

Stiles took in the chaos, the overwhelming noise of snarling and growling and hissing and screaming. He felt his heart pound faster, like a panic attack welling up inside him but he knew it was his spark charging, building like a backdraft in a fire.

He skirted the tree line and saw the bodies of a couple vampires that were already taken down, their heads totally detached from their bodies. He couldn't see Lydia but could feel her and knew instinctively that she was somewhere safe. At least someone was.

Malia and Liam were fighting a vamp together, while Kira was slicing at everything she could, and leaving body parts in her wake. Derek was taking on two vampires on his own near the edge of the clearing as Scott was snarling and working on a big one that was backing him up against some trees. The sight made Stiles' heart jump into his throat. 

 Scott was already covered in blood, staining his face and fangs and his undershirt was drenched, now totally ruined. Stiles weaved between the trees quickly, hoping not to draw anyone's attention and got behind Scott. 

Closer the vampires were ugly motherfuckers. No sparkly, smooth, pale-skinned _Twilight_ heartthrobs here. Instead they were a mashup of the Master from _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and Quasimodo. They had jagged, sharp teeth and red eyes, were bald and clearly weren't affected by the sun. They were all wearing ratty pants only, nothing else. They had sharp talon-like claws on hands and feet.

The one Scott was fighting had him in a corner and Stiles could feel how winded Scott was, despite his ire and rage. He was getting sloppy and Stiles' went cold at the thought of Scott losing.

Stiles stepped out from behind the tree and whistled. Scott's vampire grinned at him, showing off his mouth of mangled, bloody teeth and started to advance on him. 

"Stiles, no!" Scott yelled but it didn't matter. 

Stiles felt his body practically sing at finally being able to unleash the power it was storing and instead of a blue ball Stiles willed it into fire and the force of his anger behind it not only engulfed the vampire in flames but he exploded almost instantly.

Liam and Malia's vampire advanced on him with them ripping at his back, but Stiles made quick work of him, as well, and laughed maniacally at the look of surprise on his face before he crumbled to the ground.

Kira's katana sliced cleanly through the neck of the vampire she was battling, sending it rolling across the cleaning and Stiles kicked it hard enough that it sailed over the edge of the clearing. That was enough to distract the remaining vampire Derek was fighting, the other lying at his feet broken and bleeding, and with a roar he grabbed his head and twisted it clean off the body.

Derek snarled and tossed the head over the side to join the one Stiles kicked. 

The pack looked around at each other, covered in blood and guts and dirt. Stiles was the cleanest, with the barest amount of splatter on his clothes but his fingers were crackling with electricity, now back to blue. He shook his hands, as if he could get it off like water. 

"So after we burn the bodies anyone want to get pizza?" Kira asked, breaking the weird silence. 

Scott laughed, a sweet sound of relief, and tugged her into a tight hug, whispering to her so only she could hear. 

"Someone's got to go get Lydia," Malia said, wiping her hands on her shorts, uncaring about the mess. "She's going to be pissed we left her in that tree."

Stiles wanted to laugh, felt like he should at that because the thought of Lydia being left in a _tree_ of all places, for her own safety and the wrath that would inevitably follow was mind-boggling, but he still felt itchy.

His spark was still buzzing loudly in his head.

Derek was looking around at the discarded vampire bodies and frowned. "Are we sure—"

Stiles didn't think cliched shit like 'my life flashed before my eyes!' was ever really true but what did he know? Because a vampire raced out of the woods, eyes locked on Derek with his teeth bared, and time truly did slow down. For the rest of Stiles' life he would be able to describe in perfect clarity the moment that the overlooked vampire emerged from the woods and attacked Derek and killed him in an instant.

The vamp bit into Derek's throat and ripped a chunk of skin and muscle and tendon out, spraying blood everywhere. 

The pack froze.

Stiles screamed.

It was a sound Scott said he'd never forget and it would wake him in the night for years to come, like the embodiment of a nightmare. 

Stiles didn't remember the sound, not exactly, but he felt it. Felt how unhinged he was with the terror and sorrow and red-hot ire that flooded his body. 

In a blink he was across the clearing and put one hand on the vampire's face. The vampire didn't know what happened to him until he shrieked and burned from the inside out. Stiles forced him to melt internally before exploding into ash.

Stiles dropped to his knees beside Derek's body, knees landing in the growing puddle of blood that was slowly soaking into the ground. 

Derek's eyes were already blank and his chest was still.

The pack was freaking out behind him, Malia was snarling and Liam and Kira were crying. Lydia was screeching from somewhere in the woods while Scott ran up behind Stiles and wrapped his arms around Stiles from behind. 

He tried to pull him away.

Stiles cried, "No!" and slammed his fist on the ground, sending Scott flying across the clearing from the power of it. 

Stiles' fingers twitched and itched and moved of their own volition. He dug one hand into the blood soaked ground and felt it respond to his call.

He laid his other hand on the side of Derek's neck, grit his teeth and _pushed_.

Stiles' body burned, and he yelled out while he felt his spark turn from blue to red. He kept going and forced it out of him, transferring the energy like he never knew he could feel before.

Stiles felt Derek's heart thump feebly.

Felt his lungs take their first halting breath.

Felt his cells jerk jump start back into action.

Felt his skin start to knit together over the muscle and tendon repairing underneath.

Felt Derek come back to himself and his eyes pop open, blazing blue into Stiles' red ones.

Stiles felt relief and exhaustion and a faltering and then nothing.

***

He was so warm.

Getting to the point of being uncomfortable because his body was overheating, so Stiles tried to kick some of the blankets off himself.

His blankets didn't move.

Stiles slowly came back to himself before he opened his eyes, feeling his eyebrows furrow at the image of blood and bodies that passed through his mind. Not his usual dream-fare but, honestly, not much different.

He opened his eyes and blinked. He was in a hospital bed but in Deaton's clinic. He looked around and nearly gasped at how sore his neck was.

All at once his whole body protested and made itself known as one big ball of aching ouch. He wiggled his toes and frowned that even they were sore.

He looked down at himself and saw a head of dark hair and strong arms around his midsection. Derek was snoring lightly, too, and Stiles smiled.

***

"They don't know what to think about me," Stiles said a week later when he was finally getting his walking papers from Deaton. 

Derek hadn't left his side the whole time he was at the clinic, but he was recuperating a bit on his own anyway. Originally there were two beds but once Derek woke up he insisted on being in Stiles' bed. The other bed was returned to the hospital from where it was smuggled from.

"They're not _scared_ of you, if that's what you think," Derek replied, putting some stuff in a duffle bag the sheriff brought from home.

"Are you sure?" Stiles asked doubtfully.

"I can't blame them if they are a little. Hell, I don't even know what happened out there, not really. You've got power, Stiles. But even if they're scared of not knowing, they're pack and they're here for you."

"I know," Stiles said softly. "Not that it matters anyway."

He looked down at his hands that felt normal now. And useless. No blue light, no vampire-annihilating fire balls, no flowers from seed—nothing.

Derek crossed the room to Stiles and picked up his hands to hold them against his chest. "I know patience isn't your thing but you should give Deaton this one, okay? Wait a little while longer. I know your spark is fine."

Stiles smiled. "Even if it isn't and never comes back it's okay." He slid his hands up, one to his neck where the barest of a scar remained and one to his heart, the beat strong and sure under his fingers. "Totally worth it."

For the first time in weeks Stiles felt himself settle inside.  



End file.
